


The Third Degree

by GloriaVictoria



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Handcuffs, Non-binary character, Oral Sex, Other, POV Second Person, Powerplay, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaVictoria/pseuds/GloriaVictoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Valentine has got you right where he wants you...and he's gonna get the answers he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Degree

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written from the second person--YOU are the Sole Survivor. That produces a special kind of experience, so if that's not what you're looking for, stay tuned. Chances are I'll write a third person POV version later. I also tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible, so that anyone of any gender can enjoy it. Based on a post I wrote on my NSFW blog where Nick Valentine and the Sole Survivor roleplay an interrogation and get freaky.
> 
> Watch out for the stupid Star Wars reference.

You’re unsure how long you’ve been sitting here, blindfolded and handcuffed to this chair. The air around you is still; only the sound of something gently creaking back and forth breaks the silence. You struggle once against the cuffs, but they’re too tight for you to budge. Nothing to do but wait, and hope that someone comes for you soon.

A door opens loudly behind you and you jolt, startled. The cuffs around your wrists clank against the metal bars of your chair.

“Comfortable?” A familiar, raspy voice inquires and your grin, ever-so-slightly. Too much, and he’d see right through it. “Hope so.” You hear the footsteps get closer, the flick of a lighter and the sizzle of burning paper. “You’re gonna be in that chair for a long time.” A cool hand reaches behind your head and whips off the blindfold. “That is, unless you tell me what I wanna know.”

“Detective Valentine.” You smirk, straining against your cuffs. “You won’t get a peep out of me. You ought to know that by now.” 

“I know you’re stubborn. I know you’ve got a mean streak. Luckily....so do I.”

The detective pulls a chair in front of you, leans closer to you. You can smell the musty cigarette on his breath. “I’m gonna make this easy for ya pal: tell me the code, and you go free.” You laugh and shake your head. 

“As if. Try again, metal man.” Suddenly, Valentine grabs a handful of your chin and yanks you forward, just hard enough to stretch the tendons in your arms. His neon eyes flicker for a moment, but his gaze does not waver. 

“The code. I know you have it. Everyone in Diamond City knows you have it; I’m just the only one with the guts to ask.” You hold your head high, tossing your hair back from your face. 

“Got the guts to make me talk?” Valentine chuckles a bit and leans back in his chair. Smoke from his cigarette slowly wafts to the ceiling, clenching and curling like fingers in a fist.

“Listen, friend. I’ve got all the time in the world--I don’t sleep.” Valentine crosses one leg over the other, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Or eat, for that matter. You, on the other hand...” 

“Your threats don’t scare me, Detective. I don’t have to tell you anything. What if there is no code? What then?” In a motion much more fluid that you could expect from a prototype model like Valentine, he suddenly closes the gap between you and lets the smoke creep out from between his lips. You shiver, feel a stir between your legs and wish very much you could reach him. 

“That so? Well, if there’s no code, I don’t really see much of a need to let you go.” Valentine finally puts a hand on you, just above your knee. You can feel the sharpness of the metal through the fabric of your pants. “There’s a cell downtown with your name on it, pal. I could persuade one of the guards to lend it to me. Indefinitely, if you start getting too fresh with me. 

“And here I thought you liked it when I was fresh with you, Detective.” Valentine laughs and shakes his head. 

“So I do...but now, you’re trying to distract me.” Valentine’s other hand finds its way into your hair, gripping it tight. He pulls back your head slightly, just enough to expose your neck and force you to shift your weight in the chair. “The code, Vault Dweller. Give it up, or else.” 

“Go to hell.” Valentine clenches his fist tighter in your hair, then suddenly releases you, opting instead to cup your face gently. He strokes your cheek with his thumb; you can feel the damaged metal and plastic on your skin.

“You know....” The detective murmurs, lips tantalizingly close to yours. “You’re right. I ain’t got it in me to force the code out of you.” Valentine edges closer to you, pressing his knee between your legs. “Good thing there are other ways to make someone like you talk.” 

“Is that...so?” You breath hitches in your throat as you speak, and Valentine finally closes the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours. You moan at their warmth and pliancy, and lean closer only to have him pull cruelly away. 

“Those cuffs look a little loose. How about I tighten those up for ya?” You squirm and strain against them as he reaches around you to press them even closer to your skin. As he leans over, you desperately press your body against him as best as you can. “Impatient, are we? Hmm...well, I can’t give you what you want without getting something back, pal.”

“Please...Detective, please....” You beg him as he rises, moves away from you and pours a glass of whiskey. 

“Funny. You’ve really changed your tune.” Valentine smirks and takes a sip of his drink, swirls it around in his metal hand. “The code.” 

“I...I don’t know the code, but...I know someone that can take you to it.” Valentine tut-tuts, shakes his head. You bite back a whimper of frustration. 

“Oldest trick in the book. I don’t want you to take me anywhere. I want you to tell me that code, right now.” He downs the whiskey and slams the shot glass unceremoniously onto his desk, looking you dead in the eyes. You look back, and can’t help but wonder if you see a glint of amusement in their yellow glow.

“F-fine. The code is...P0F1N-R3Y.” You ramble off the first letters and numbers that come to mind. Valentine feigns surprise and nods, stroking his chin and pacing slowly back and forth. His deliberate stalling makes you want to scream, but you suppose that’s the point of these kinds of games. 

“Of course. No wonder it was so difficult to decode. The letters had to be organized just so...” The detective silently meditates on your confession; all the while you feel sweat beading on your forehead. The cuffs are sliding mercilessly against your wrists, and though they do not cut into your skin, they ache ever so slightly. What hurts far more is the growing tightness in your trousers, the erratic beating of your heart against your ribs. “Oh, that’s right. I suppose you want your reward, don’t ya?” You nod wordlessly, your breath coming out in soft, needy gasps. “I suppose I can accommodate you for being so forthcoming.”

You quiver as Nick moves closer, kneels down in front of you and slides his hand between your legs, rubbing firmly the center of your discomfort. You moan and let your head fall back, gasping and clenching your fists in some futile search for purchase. 

“Mm, you like that.” Valentine murmurs knowingly, pressing his thumb where he knows you’ll react. You jerk forward and pant harder, and he grasps your hair with his metal fingers as he continues stroking through the fabric of your pants. “I wonder if you can convince me to take those off. I might need some more information first...”

“P-please! Ah...Detective, please, I-I’ll tell you....whatever you wanna know!” You wrench the plea from your lips between gasps, and he leans in closer to the meeting of your thighs, teasing it with his breath.

“Mmm. Hold onto that. You can tell me later.” Valentine unbuttons your pants and pulls them unceremoniously to your knees. With no support, they slide to the floor. The chilly air sends goosebumps down your spine. “That’s the ticket.” Valentine pushes his face between your legs and runs his tongue along the soft skin there, finding all of your most sensitive places and teasing them mercilessly. You quiver and arch your back, trying to get closer. Finally, Nick concedes, taking you by the hips and pulling you, chair and all, closer to his mouth. He takes you fully into his mouth, warming you inside and out as he lavishes attention on you, from top to bottom.

For a robot, you think, it’s remarkable how slick and wet Valentine’s mouth can get. Perhaps the whiskey helped, or perhaps you’ve already made such a mess that he didn’t need any help at all. When Nick slides a finger inside you, those thoughts cease. You grasp him by the back of the head, knocking his hat to the floor. 

“N-nick...” Before long, you lose yourself in a haze of sensation, your hips bucking against Nick’s mouth. He gently twists his finger, thrusting it in and out with ease as he continues to work his tongue around you. You swear you can feel Nick’s lips curl into a smile as you come undone above him. When your climax finally peters out, Nick pulls back and looks up at you. 

“You alright, kid?” You nod, face flushed and breath coming in labored gasps. He smiles, reaches around you and releases the cuffs holding you upright. You lean back in the chair as he rubs your wrists, pressing gentle kisses against them. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you were being serious when you said you’d enjoy that. Most people don’t.”

“Most people don’t get fucked as part of the package.” You smirk, still catching your breath, and Nick laughs. 

“True. I’m also not particularly fond of any of them.” Nick reaches up, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Not like you.” As you pull yourself together, he takes your hand. “Stay here tonight. I got enough room for you. It’s not much nicer than a jail cell, but...” He winks, and you can’t help but think your heart might flip out of your chest. “I’m sure you’ll brighten up the place.”


End file.
